Esoteric
by EarlGreyLeaf
Summary: How did Malfoy know Harry wouldn't go telling everyone? Then again, who exactly would admit they had been felt up by their schoolyard rival? -A series of dreams leave Harry and Draco perplexed and uncertain.-
1. Threshold

**A/N: So, this is my first fic that delves into the Potterverse. Mostly, I started writing it a long time ago to hone my writing in the slash genre… Which is also where my other fic '**_**Anatomize' **_**came into play. Currently, I have 9 chapters of this written out, so it's just a matter of getting it typed. So, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: Do… not… own Harry Potter. However, this story and plot are mine.**

**Warnings: Slash, Draco/Harry, Lemon**

**.:Esoteric:.**

**-Chapter 1: Threshold-**

_A pair of hands moved across his chest, aiming for his stomach. The onyx-haired boy gasped for breath, only to have it stolen in another furious kiss. A pale form pinned him to the pure white sheets. Soft moans escaped the Gryffindor as a pair of moist lips brushed his collarbone. He arched his back, bringing the two bodies dangerously close. his partner released him, and the boy wrapped his arms around the flushed figure above, gripping his back in pleasure. A pair of lust-ridden blue eyes watched him, taking in every sweet sound. The Gryffindor shuddered as hands trailed down his sides, finally resting at his hips. Hips ground against hips, driving out another moan as the boy squirmed._

_"Do you love me?" he whispered into Harry's ear._

_"Forever."_

Harry bolted upright, panting and wide-eyed, entangled in his sheets.

6 A.M. He sighed. No one else was awake, he realized, resting his head in his palm. How long were these dreams going to last?

It had been torture almost every night.

When his breathing evened out, he glanced out of the window at setting moon. It shone brilliantly into the dorm, flooding the floor, illuminating the dark carpet. The Gryffindor calmed slightly, and swung his legs over the edge of his bed. After a few moments, he quietly creeped over to his trunk, grabbed a set of robes, and left for the showers.

Thankfully, he had placed a Silencing Charm around his bed days ago, so that none of the others could hear anything he might let slip in his sleep. Sighing once more, he shouldered open the door to the shower room.

Gratefully, Harry let the warm water spray over his tense muscles. His pajamas were shoved away in his school bag, and the clean set of robes hung at the far end of the stall. He rubbed his shoulders, and let the water trickle down his face. leaning against the chilled, grey stone wall, he started contemplating his dream.

It had started only a few weeks prior, with no cause to his knowledge. Almost every night, he awoke, wide-eyed and panting, and had been able to do nothing to prevent them. it had become pure _torture_. Even the other Gryffindors had noticed something amiss. And above all else…

He had been avoiding Malfoy, at _all _costs.

Except for class, of course. He couldn't afford another poor grade. He cursed quietly. More recently, those grades had been the direct result of those damned _dreams_. Lack of sleep did not agree with him in the least.

He quickly shut off the water at the sound of footsteps, dried, and slipped into his maroon boxers. He shoved his wand into his pocket, and cracked the stall door.

A blonde figure rounded the corner, and halted, spotting the Gryffindor. The boy sneered, "Morning, Potter."

Harry fully opened the door, irritation etched into his face, "Malfoy."

"Relax, Potter," Malfoy breathed, tossing his clothes into one of the stalls, "I'm not here for a fight."

"Is that so?," Harry replied, although the grip on his wand relaxed. He watched as the Slytherin remove his shirt, placing it with his other clothes. His other attire followed, until Malfoy was down to his boxers. The slender blonde turned, placing a hand on his hip. A smirk crossed his lips as he noticed his audience, "See something you like?"

Harry jerked out of his trance, swiveling his head away. A blush crossed his features. He hadn't even noticed he was staring! Not trusting his voice at the moment, he stayed silent; instead, turning his back to the blonde, he began to dress. He secured his night clothes in his school bag, and, in his embarrassed flurry, knocked his wand from his pocket. It clattered noisily, rolling across the damp floor a full six feet, before coming to a stop with a soft 'tink' against Malfoy's foot.

There was a minute of silence while the two surveyed each other. Then, Malfoy bent to retrieve the item. He paused, thinking, the padded softly over to Harry, and helt it out. Harry took it without a word.

Then, the Slytherin leaned close to him, essentially trapping him against the metal stall, "You should be more careful.," he whispered. Harry was mortified to feel a shiver travel down his spine. The blonde showed no sign of noticing, "You'd be powerless without it."

The thought of himself powerless against the young wizard in front of him was, indeed, fearsome. The soft moans and kisses he'd become familiar with clawed at the back of his brain. He shook his head, trying to diffuse the red tint that crept into hi cheeks. Draco simply smirked, and withdrew, returning to his stall. The door closed behind him, and Harry released the breath he didn't even remember holding.

Harry, when he had managed to feel his legs again, swiftly and silently left the room.

After the steps receded, Draco slumped against the wall. Warm water pooled at his feet, and whirled down the drain. He shivered, despite the warmth. He had _some _control, he had to admit. Coming that close to Potter, and not acting rashly… That's all he seemed to do recently.

He slid to a crouch, wrapping his arms around his knees pensively, _'These occursed dreams are becoming too much for me…' _He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall.

_His porcelain hands traced mercilessly over the Gryffindor's tanned skin. Dropping kisses over every inch of that beautiful flesh, he relished in the hoarse whispers of his name…_

Draco shook his head violently, burying his head in his hands, _'This is unbearable…!'_

He ran his hands through his hair, now loose around his face. He let the water run its course over his body for another few minutes. Then, breathing deeply, he stood, and finished washing himself.

A while later, he emerged from the stall, fully dressed. On his way to the door, he spyed something small and black resting on the floor. It was a little leather-bound journal, miraculously dry as it had been forgotten near the wall. Draco crossed the shower room, and picked it up, inspecting it in his hand,_'Hm… Must be Potter's.'_

After a few seconds, he stowed it away in his bag. A playful grin crossed his face, _I'll have to return it later, then.'_

_Harry cursed as he rummaged through his school bag. Hermione glanced at him reprimandingly, and Ron merely shrugged, and stuffed another chunk of egg into his mouth. The Great Hall buzzed around them, shrouding the word._

"I've lost my Potions notes!," he said, irritably.

Ron looked at him sympathetically, "Oh, that's tough, mate."

Hermione set down her _Daily Prophet, _carefully avoiding Ron's breakfast debris, "When was the last you saw it?"

"I used them to finish up the essay last night, and-," he clenched his jaw. In the showers! He must've…

Panic coursing through him, he swiveled his head around, searching. There! Malfoy was watching intently from the other side of the Hall. Harry held his gaze for a moment, then looked away as he felt his stomach shift curiously.

"Nevermind!," he exclaimed, leaping up from his seat, heaving his bag over his shoulder. Consequently, he crashed into Neville's arm, knocking juice over the tabletop. Mumbling, an apology, he clambered over the bench, "I remember where it is, I'll see you later!"

He made his way hastily towards the vast oak doors, _'If I want to get it back,' _Harry thought, sighing_, 'I'll have to confront him…. I'm not sure if that's possible at this point…'_

He passed through two halls before realizing that his were not the only steps echoing in the air. His brow furrowed, and a few steps later, he ducked behind a stature next to a deserted corridor. He waited a bit until the steps disappeared, and relaxed. Days without restful sleep really made him anxious… He slipped back out into the hallway, and crashed head-on into a solid bulk.

"M-Malfoy…!"

The blonde looked startled, eyes wide. He recovered quickly, raising his hand as Harry was about to speak, "Once again, I'm not here to fight." In it was Harry's notebook.

Harry glared at him fiercely, "You _did _have it!"

"Yes, yes, anyone with eyes can see that, Potter," the Slytherin replied, rather impatiently.

"Give it back.," Harry said warningly.

"Why is it…," Malfoy stepped forward, ignoring him, "That I always seem to be returning your things to you?"

_Ooooh, no…_ Harry did not like this at all. He did not like that the blonde was mere inches from him. He did not like that he was trapped against the wall, heart pounding against his ribs. He did not like that his feet were rooted to the stony floor, or that his mind was racing back to his dreams at a most inappropriate time. But, most of all…

He did not like how dangerously close they were.

He found himself caged against the wall, one of Malfoy's arms extended above him, the other, found rest upon his hip. In Harry's rose-pink ear, he whispered, "I think it's time I received something in return…"

A furious blush bloomed over his face as he felt the Slytherin's lips brush the bony hollow behind his ear. Harry froze.

The lips moved lightly to the curve of his neck, and a tremble flew down his back. Subconsciously, he found himself leaning his head back as Malfoy pressed closer. Every instinct told him to bolt, sending spells flying back behind him, but… Body overruled mind too often.

As if on cue, a savior to his soul, a distant boom could be heard, and the roar of students echoed through the castle. Breakfast had ended.

The lips disappeared, and Malfoy stepped away. He threw a smirk at the gryffindor, "See you in Potions.," and vanished in the oncoming crowd.

Harry could only stand there, gawking, and wonder what the _hell _had just happened.

"Harry, mate, you look terrible."

Harry looked up to see his fiery-haired friend peering at him with concern. His eyes felt sluggish, and he was sure there were purple rings around them. He readjusted his arms, his head resting on them, and closed his eyes again, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Ron.," he sighed, "I'll be fine, I'm just lacking sleep is all…"

Ron cast a depressed glance at Snape desk, "I can't wait for Christmas holidays… Only a few more weeks."

"Yeah, but that makes midterms that much closer.," the raven-haired boy replied.

Ron looked downcast, "You're right."

A resounding BOOM ricocheted through the dungeon, and Harry's eyed flew open, darting around to find the source.

"Quiet!," Snape bellowed.

The room fell silent, no one daring to move. The professor swept up to his desk like a dark spirit, whirling around to face the panicked students, "Today, we will be working on the Sleeping Draught."

He waved his wand, and words scrawled themselves across the chalkboard, "Follow these instructions _carefully_! An awry Draught can cause a coma, or death. Begin!"

Half an hour later, Harry was gazing at his miraculously _correct _potion, stirring itself counter-clockwise in his onyx cauldron. The ruddy brown liquid boiled and bubbled away happily at him. Ron's, however, was a sickly orange goo, full of clumps and unsightly sludge. Hermione seemed to be doing fine, but was distracted by Neville at the moment, whose Draught had become a mass of violent purple foam that was beginning to overflow his cauldron.

Ron scowled, "This is bloody awful! Harry, how'd you get yours right?"

"It's okay, Ron.," Harry laughed, then pointed towards their two distressed friends, "At least it's not like _his_."

"True…," Ron admitted, dejectedly.

They heard the doors thump open again, and caught sight of a slim blonde figure slipping in quietly.

"Malfoy," a demeaning voice floated from up front, "Pray tell, why are you over half an hour late for my class?"

"I was helping another professor." There was that irritating smirk.

Snape nodded, albeit crossly, "Very well, take your seat."

Malfoy made his way to his desk quietly, pausing for a split-second to cast that damn smirk down on _him_. Harry bristled, returning with a glare. The Slytherin snickered quietly, moving on to his seat, and began sorting his ingredients. Harry and Ron returned to their work, as the chatter around them resumed.

"Slimy git.," Ron muttered. Harry nodded absently.

Neither Harry, nor Ron, nor Malfoy spoke again.

**A/N: My writing style is so different now from when I started this fic, I had to edit almost every sentence. :C Once again, there are 9 chapters currently written, so I will try to update once a week! So, probably every Monday or something like that… R&R, please!**

**~EGL**


	2. Predacious

**.:Esoteric:.**

**A/N: Typed and proofread while listening to '**_**Room of Requirement**_**' from the **_**Order of the Phoenix**_** film. : ) A very bouncy, curious number. And again, A LOT of editing went into this chapter, considering I wrote it years ago. When I went back and read everything I wrote on paper, the story progressed **_**way**_** to quickly, so I'm trying to fill it out and plumpen it in all the right places. ;)**

**Disclaimer: Don't own. I do have a rather fabulous limited ed. **_**Deathly Hollows **_**book release poster. : )**

**.:Chapter Two: Predacious:.**

Three days passed, and Harry's dreams continued. One particular morning, he had punched a hole right through the dorm wall in frustration, which woke Ron and Neville. After a quick '_Repairo,'_ the two returned to their bed mumbling.

Saturday arrived, bringing with it the monthly trip to Hogsmeade, and Harry found himself trudging through the snow-packed ground with his two best friends.

Something collided heavily with his shoulder, sending him staggering, "Hey-!" He whirled, and looked dead into a pair of eyes as blue as the shadows across the snow, "Malfoy..!"

"Potter." The Slytherin sneered, brushing his shoulder clean.

Glaring, Harry shook snow from his cloak hem, "Watch where you're going."

"You were in the way."

The blonde signaled the two hefty bodies of contrary statures lurking behind, and swept down the narrow road.

Once they reached the perimeter of the village, Harry urged Ron and Hermione into The Three Broomsticks, insisting he would meet them later after wandering a bit. Smiling to himself, the Boy-Who-Lived continued down the now-trampled sludge. He had to give them some time alone. They had been acting strangely around one another since third year, and Harry knew they fancied each other. However, the thought of suddenly finding himself cut off left him slightly glum.

He brushed the thought away.

He melted into the crowd, passing children peering into Honeyduke's, teens and his fellow classmates pointing and shoving into Zonko's, and adults popping in and out of the Hogshead down a small, dim alley. He followed the footpath out the back of the village, meandering where his warmly-clad feet took him. Passing the last building, Dervish & Banges, he took to the evergreen-covered trail.

He kept to it, just walking, enjoying the beauty of the white-crested forest, the soft contrast of the blue-white on green.

It was after several minutes, though, that Harry realized his were not the only footfalls crunching softly down this lonely path. He slowed, taking a few more cautious steps, and heard them echoed just a few yards behind. His hand inched towards his pocket, and then he swiftly whirled, wand drawn and pointed.

"You don't trust me?" Malfoy leered.

"Why should I?"

The Gryffindor's glare sliced into the Slytherin teen. A sigh of impatience, and the blonde's lips turned up at one corner, "calm down. You jump to conclusions too quickly."

Harry placed his free hand on his hip, brows furrowed angrily "You've never given me a reason _not _to."

Before he knew it, Harry found himself looking up in panic at the Slytherin, the rough bark of an ancient pine digging into his back, even though his many layers, as his hands were pinned above him. Malfoy leaned in against Harry's futile thrashing, mere centimeters from the brunette's pink-dusted face, "You _should _trust your instincts."

Harry could only fall limply fall flush to the tree, stare defiantly, and vaguely note that the boy smelled of peppermint.

It was obvious Malfoy saw his resignation. They were, as it seemed, hidden from view, and the boy was at his mercy. He smiled in triumph, nuzzling into the boy's neck, "I gather you understand the situation."

Harry merely stared, anger and confusion suddenly adorning his wind-rouged cheeks, "Why are you doing this…?"

Malfoy retreated, wide-eyed, "What?"

The brunette cast his gaze to the side, "The book… That time in the hall… _This,_" He took a slow breath, "What do you want from me…?"

Malfoy paused, then cast his eyes down upon the snow. A hardened smirk carved into his features. Harry chanced a look from underneath his dark fringe, and glimpsed some undefinable emotion on the blonde's porcelain face.

"I really thought you'd have figured it out."

Was that… _bitterness?_

The Gryffindor peered at him, trying to mask his curiosity, "Figured out _what, _exactly…?"

Malfoy shook his head slightly, but to Harry or himself, the brunette was not sure. Harry sighed defeatedly, nodding up at his hands "Look, are you going to let go?"

He looked like he was going to. But, after a moment, looking like a cat with a toy, Malfoy grinned wickedly, "Not quite yet, Potter."

Harry did _not _like that predatory gleam in the blonde's eyes. He was feeling extremely uneasy again, searching for possible escapes back to Hogsmeade. His eye roamed back to the Slytherin, and his skin prickled, "Malfoy, I-"

The blonde cut the boy off, grinding his hips heavily into Harry's. Harry released a small gasp, startled by the sudden friction. Malfoy moved in, pressing his chilled lips into the curve of the Gryffindor's neck. The brunette could feel him smiling against his skin as he twisted his head away, struggling to make his suddenly jelly-like legs work. He was frozen in place.

Trapped.

His wand lay nestled in the white fluff at his feet, unreachable. Glimpses of his dreams leapt unbidden to the front of his mind. His cheeks grew warm in spite of the whirling flurries. Malfoy's free hand traveled downward, exploring new territory. An '_Accio' _died in Harry's throat, strangely, along with the impulse to bolt.

The sudden fever in his body, the feel of the blonde's gloved hands roving over him, became not so unwelcome.

Harry's soft pants filled the silent air between them, confused, and angry at being caught off guard, at being vulnerable.

Malfoy's restricting hand loosened, but Harry did not try to run. The weakened limbs fell loosely around the Slytherin's neck, then constricted as Malfoy discovered a much more _pressing_ problem.

"_Aah-!"_

Harry felt that trademark smirk form against his collarbone. When did his shirt become unbuttoned?

His fingers moved upwards, entangling themselves in the blonde strands, _'How am I enjoying this…?'_

He groaned slightly, then bit his lip, cutting himself off. No, he couldn't let Malfoy win.

He-

"_Harry!"_

"_Harry, where are you?"_

Said boy cursed, and felt Malfoy release him instantly.

The distant shouts of Ron and Hermione sliced through his fog. _"Damn," _he hastily pulled his cloak back into place, fixing his top button. He threw a dagger-laced glare at the blonde next to him, who was running his hand through his hair, looking exasperated.

Harry took a step, stumbled, then took off in the direction he came. _What the bloody hell is this all about?_

The snow-capped evergreens blurred past him, too distracted to notice. His face stung, the wind biting his skin angrily, and he clutched his maroon-and-gold scarf closer. His eyes burned, but he wasn't quite sure if it was just the wind's doing.

The path re-opened after a while, and he burst from the treeline, panting. He clutched his knees, doubled over, lungs searing. He stared, frustrated, down at the crushed white slush of the recently trodden ground. Maybe sprinting about in these temperatures wasn't so good for you…

"There you are!"

Crunching reached the Gryffindor's ears, and a shadow fell over him. He looked up, straightening himself.

"'Mione, here he is!"

Harry saw the bushy-haired girl break free from the crowd behind Ron. Relief flooded her pink face, "Oh, thank God, Harry, we have tons to-" From the look that crossed her face at that moment, he could only assume Malfoy had finally emerged behind him.

He could almost _feel _the Slytherin's leering smirk, "Granger, Weasel."

Ron slipped closer to Hermione, who tried to look as dignified as possible beneath her wind-fluffed curls, "Bugger off, Malfoy!"

"Protective of you girlfriend, as always," the blonde muttered. Harry hadn't dared yet to turn.

His friends' faces flushed.

Harry heard Malfoy move, and the blonde strolled past him, pausing between him and the others. He pulled his gloves tighter over his hands, indifferently, "Well, as much fun as this _hasn't _been, I really _must _be going." He waved mockingly at them, sneering derisively, then vanished down the road.

The three remained silent for a moment, each resonating respective waves of dislike. Finally, Hermione relaxed her shoulders, sighing, "Let's go."

Harry picked at his dinner, rolling over roasted potato bits, having lost his appetite long ago.

"Harry, what's wrong? You look pale."

"Hm?," said boy looked up, eyebrows raised, "Oh… I'm fine," he lied weakly.

She eyed him, perceptively, "Is it about Malfoy? What did he do?"

'_Cornered me, molested me, and probably would've _raped _me if I hadn't bolted for it,' _Harry thought, but opted for, "Nothing. He was just being a prat."

For a moment, he thought he fooled her, but it was still obvious she didn't think it was the _whole _truth. Well, it was part true.

He was being a very '_touchy-feely' _prat.

Whatever her thoughts, she stopped pestering him, and turned to 'Ronald' to nag him about table manners. Harry's eyes roamed, falling on Malfoy, _of course_. The boy was hidden amongst the other Slytherins, and Harry wondered for a moment how so many enormous egos could fit at one table.

As if on cue (_damn him!_), Harry found those steely, cold eyes directed straight at him. Startled, his breath seized in his throat, and he ripped his gaze away. The stray thread on his sleeve suddenly became very interesting.

Minutes dragged by, and the brunette could still feel those eyes assaulting the side of his head.

His eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

Slamming his palms flat against the polished but worn wood, he sprung upright. An upturned goblet clattered indignantly, painting the tabletop dusty orange. Ignoring the cries of those surrounding, he snatched up his weathered canvas bag, and stormed away, "I've had enough!"

Those chilling, unreadable eyes followed him until the Hall doors safely separated them.

After the last few hours, Harry thought his glare would have burned a hole through the ceiling already.

A chorus of snores surrounded him, his dorm mates having fallen asleep long ago. It had to be at least half-past-one in the morning…

Nevertheless, he found himself irritatingly _awake. _Whether it was the product of frustration, or the subconscious feeling that his sleep would not exactly mean _rest, _he couldn't decide. Both the imaginary _and_ annoyingly tangible Malfoy had caused the Gryffindor to question his mental stability. Conspiring to steal a vial of Dreamless Sleep from the Infirmary didn't seem so rash anymore…

His face grew hot as he considered the alternative. His hands traveled up to cover his eyes as he released a pained sigh.

Not until those _damned dreams_ had begun had Harry considered himself anything but straight as Hermione was brilliant. Not only was he now questioning_ that, _but now he thought he might be completely mad. Of all the sentient beings on _Earth_, it was Malfoy, King Prat of all prats, git to end all gits. His subconscious was playing a wicked joke.

What would have happened had Ron and Hermione not been nearby? Just how far would Malfoy have gone? There was no knowing. It had pretty much been established that blonde preferred the male persuasion. Harry scoffed to himself_. That_ much had been evident. Who would've thought?

'_It would explain quite a bit, actually…'_

Harry's hands flopped down by his sides. Even if Malfoy _was _gay, it still didn't explain his sudden new hobbies of molestation and eye-raping. It was like the Slytherin's desire to prove his dominance had taken a rather nasty turn. They were supposed to hate each other.

Harry intended to leave it at that.

What if Malfoy was just trying to screw with him? '_Dammit, not like that!,_' he winced, an obscene picture popping into his mind.

It was highly possible the blonde was simply inventing new ways to torture him. It was a rather substantial risk on the Slytherin's part, though. How did the boy know Harry wouldn't go telling everyone? Then again, who exactly _would _admit they had been felt up by their schoolyard rival?

His brain hurt.

He wasn't exactly proud that he'd been unable to fend Malfoy off. He was even less proud he'd submitted as much as he had. It's not like he'd _liked _it!

…_had_ he?

No, no, no, absolutely _NOT!_ Never in any conceivable amount of years would he ever _consider _anything of the sort with another boy, let alone _Malfoy._

And that was that.

He promptly flopped over onto his stomach, burying his face into the welcoming down-pillow, praying for a peaceful sleep.

**A/N: About mid-chapter, I had to re-route my original plot. Some things were progressing too quickly, and my rising action was almost non-existent. So, I stretched it out a bit, pruned and fluffed, and I think it turned out pretty decent…**

**Tell me what you think so far! If you have any suggestions as far as plot, I'll consider factoring them in. I have my main plot down, I just think it needs more sub-plots. ; )**

**Review please!**


	3. Confessions (Or 'A Meeting At Night')

**A/N:** Bet you thought I was dead, right? I know, I know, it took years to get this up. Blame unfortunate circumstances. Well, this chapter, only at the very end, is where the plot diverges from my original written version (I'll explain later.). In my absence, I came up with an actual main plot, aside from the love story. A wrench in the works. Well, maybe I should call it a hurricane in the works, to put the magnitude in perspective. Have fun figuring that one out.

* * *

**.:Chapter Three: Confessions; A Meeting At Night:.**

_Smooth, pale hands danced patterns across the tanned, toned skin. Draco placed a gentle kiss on the boy's lips. Moments later, it was broken, and he was greeted with electrifying green eyes, intense and yearning. Soft pants escaped their bruised mouths._

_Nothing existed outside of this. They had no need of anything else but the feel, sound, _taste_ of each other, writhing in their throes. They plunged into another flurry of kisses and touches, murmuring, driving the blonde further. His hand trailed down his lover's side, lips fastened to the Gryffindor's collarbone. The eyes followed him, half-lidded in rapture, as he slipped lower and lower, lips finally finding what he so desperately sought-_

Draco shot upright, the boys' dorm swimming around him. The steady _thump-thump_ of his heart filled his ears as his eyes adjusted to the pitch-blackness enveloping him. His eyes shot around the room, scrutinizing his housemates for signs that he'd been heard. None stirred.

Massaging his temples, he propped himself on his free arm. It was so damn _confusing._ One day, his hand is brushing up Parkinson's skirt, the next, he's got a boner for Potter.

Although, even his straight side would admit Potter had better looks.

He shook his head vigorously, displacing the thoughts, and his already disheveled hair, and flopped back onto his many pillows. Speaking of hard-ons, Draco was painfully aware of the one pulsing demandingly between his legs. He groaned. That was definitely not going away.

He drummed his fingers against his abdomen.

'_Might as well subdue the hormones so I can at least sleep._'

Resigned, he checked that his _'Muffliato' _spell was still intact (which he learned quite recently would be wise), and slipped his bed curtains closed. Falling back down into his bed, Draco heaved a sigh, grazing his hand casually over his chest and stomach. His member twitched in response.

He repeated the motion a few times before finally moving for the elastic of his knickers, thin fingers slipping past the barrier almost eagerly. Draco trailed his hand lazily over the sensitive skin covering his hipbones.

Growing impatient, and mostly wanting to just get it over with, he grabbed his cock firmly, pumping it fully with a hiss. He cursed, clenching his eyes shut. A single finger stroked the pulsing vein under the head.

Eyes of pure jade manifested behind his closed lids, piercing and pleading. A tanned, beautiful body sprawled beneath him, pleading, begging to be taken over the edge. His fist tightened around the achingly hard appendage, but, _no_, it was that deliciously snug hole taking him to the hilt, and _Merlin, _Draco was spilling himself within seconds.

It was quite some time before he swam back to reality. He had just nearly enough energy to expend on a _'Scourgify'_ before he lost consciousness altogether.

* * *

"I can't take it anymore!"

Ron and Hermione jolted, warily peering at Harry's tossed-aside fork. The bushy-haired Gryffindor lowered her copy of the _Prophet_ slightly, "What?"

"_Malfoy!_"Harry hissed, glaring across the Great Hall, "He keeps staring at me!"

Ron went back to his eggs, "Curse his eyes out, mate." Hermione looked at him scoldingly. The ginger threw his hand up, "_What? _ He deserves it!_"_

The girl rolled her eyes, hair fluffing out as she shook her head. Her gaze returned to the newspaper, but she spoke over the top of it, "He _has_ been paying rather close attention to you lately."

'_I hadn't noticed!_'Harry thought scornfully.

Their breakfast continued like this, Ron muttering curses about ferrets, Hermione heaving great sighs and Harry brutally assaulting food bits, until the signal sounded for first classes.

He was halfway out the oaken doors when he spotted the blonde head further on. Glowering, Harry sped up, bumping students aside until he could reach out, grab the Slytherin's cloak and drag him behind a suit of armour.

"_What _is _it?!"_

Malfoy stumbled to regain his balance, eyes narrowed at his attacker. He brushed his robes haughtily, "What the blazes is wrong with you, Potter?!"

"What the fuck do you _think_, Malfoy?"

"Haven't the foggiest," the blonde grumbled sardonically, peering out at the students passing. The rest of Harry's willingness to compromise disintegrated, "You keep staring at me! Do you know how bloody _irritating_ that is? I honestly think you'd have gotten your fill at the Shack."

Malfoy's eyes widened slightly at the reference, then narrowed at him mischievously. He moved infinitesimally closer, "To be honest, Potter, I'm quite _surprised_."

"Er-"

"All this complaining, such childish pouting…" the faintest brush across Harry's trousers, and he was flattening himself against the armoured suit behind him, "And you haven't told _a soul._"

Harry realized quickly this may have been a great mistake. The blonde's hand bravely slipped inside his robes, wandering a curious path, "If it bothers you so, why continue to let me do… _this._" A firm press against Harry's groin emphasised the point. A whimper escaped him.

Suddenly, the hand was gone, and Harry became acutely aware of the sparse few students still passing. He felt his face burn.

"Calm down, Potter," Malfoy said dismissively. He readjusted his canvas bookbag, then said after a moment, "Meet me by the Lake after curfew. I have something to discuss with you."

The boy was vanished in a flourish of robes before Harry could even object.

* * *

The good thing about sneaking around the castle at night in the middle of winter was that most prefects started skiving their rounds when the temperatures dropped. No amount of satisfaction from doling out detentions was worth hypothermia.

This fact, for which he was eternally grateful, left Harry to wander the halls less carefully. For instance, he was pacing his way back and forth in front of the great oaken entrance doors, muttering insanely to himself in almost a normal volume.

He had decided to meet Malfoy. He had also decided he was starkers for meeting the Slytherin in the dead of night, alone, in the bitter cold and especially after what the blonde had done.

Maybe he wanted to apologize. Maybe by some miracle, Malfoy had grown a conscience, and felt sorry for every wrong he'd ever committed. Somehow Harry found that very doubtful, but one can dream. Whatever the case, the Gryffindor had made sure he would have access to his wand this time. Said object was fastened securely to his forearm with a Sticking spell.

At nearly eleven o'clock, Harry grumbled loudly and hauled one of the doors open. He was greeted with a rush of icy air that blew his hair back and made his eyes water. Steeling himself with a string of curses, he stomped out onto the grounds.

He could hardly see. The only light outside came from the waning moon, and a few candles left in some of the castle's windows. A '_Lumos_' was tempting, but would immediately give him away to anyone who may have still been awake. Not to mention it would alert Malfoy, if there was an ambush awaiting the brunette. He would just have to suffer frosting glasses.

Harry tip-toed past the dreaded Willow, down the hill and around the edge of the forest. Teeth chattering, he cast a feeble Warming Charm, pleased when he didn't botch it with his stuttering. With renewed vigor, he quietly made his way towards the placid onyx water, but halted when a platinum glimmer shone further on.

His breath caught.

Moonlight was definitely flattering for Malfoy. It flowed down on him, illuminating his hair and face in an ethereal softness. Steel eyes fixed out on the Lake, the boy barely moved as a breeze shifted his robes, and rippled away from them across the glassy surface. To Harry, it seemed like something taken right out of a movie. Leave it to the git to stand in near-freezing weather, and look like a fucking Adonis.

"I know you're there."

Harry blinked. What? He still had the Cloak wrapped around himself like a burrito. How the bleeding hell had Malfoy known he was there?

Sighing exasperatedly, he tore the Cloak off, and tossed it over his shoulder, "Fine. I'm here. Now why the hell did you drag me out here?"

Malfoy didn't look at him. The silence was deafening, nothing but bare branches scraping against each other above. Harry was beginning to get impatient.

Finally, the Slytherin opened his mouth, "There's something I feel you should know."

"Yeah, we covered that part already," Harry spat, the phantom feeling of Malfoy's palm against him sending a shiver up his spine, "Get to the bloody point. It's miserable out here."

Frankly, Malfoy's forebodingly calm demeanor was unnerving him. After what seemed to be ages, that unyielding gaze turned to him, and Harry's chest clenched, stomach writhing uncomfortably.

"I brought you here because..." Malfoy paused, eyebrows knitted slightly. The boy seemed at a loss for words, the signs of inner turmoil sweeping over his face. Confused, and slightly concerned, Harry peered at him. Suddenly, Malfoy swore, "Damn it, Potter. You may have already figured it out by now, but I'm fonder of you than I would like."

Harry blinked.

Well, that was it. It was out in the open. Harry's ears rang in the ensuing silence, limbs numb from more than just cold.

Malfoy fancied him.

The Slytherin's face did not betray any falsehood. In fact, he was brilliantly flushed, looking anywhere but at the Gryffindor. Harry tried to stutter a reply, but Malfoy interrupted him angrily, "Tch, this was stupid! I shouldn't have done this."

He made to shove past Harry and flee back to the castle, but the brunette grabbed him firmly by the sleeve, "Wait!"

Malfoy looked back at him, startled. He didn't fight the grip, instead staring Harry in the eye with a fierce defensiveness. Tension hung between them, and it made Harry's skin prickle.

"You didn't ask if _I_ liked _you_."

He watched the cogwheels turn, and Malfoy's face slip from regretful to stunned. Harry took advantage of the boy's stupor to draw him into a vigorous kiss, one that took the blonde a few seconds to register. The Gryffindor soon felt the other male's arms snake under his own and around his waist. A warm tongue ran across his lips, and Harry more than willingly obliged, tilting his head to allow more access. There was a slight press of hips, and Harry was suddenly much warmer.

They finally broke apart, gasping as tiny puffs of air escaped their lips. Malfoy swallowed thickly,"Um… D'you-" Harry silenced him with a finger pressed to the blonde's kiss-swollen mouth, shaking his head, "Would I still be here if I didn't?"

Malfoy glared at him half-heartedly, mouth pursed. He didn't try to withdraw his arms, or remove Harry's, but his brow furrowed in thought, "But… What does this mean?" He gestured between them.

"I suppose…" the brunette paused, then grinned boyishly, "We've come to a compromise."

Malfoy laughed nervously. Harry's stomach curled, suddenly stricken with how intense the boy's eyes were. After a moment, their foreheads met, and they stayed that way for some time. It was Harry who finally spoke, "It's rather late. We should go back."

The Slytherin nodded, releasing him and turning to the barely-lit castle. Harry silently fell in step beside him.

* * *

**A/N:** If you're wondering what I meant about the divergence, here you go: In my original, written years ago when I had no concept of timing, this is the chapter in which they actually confessed their love. Looking back, I found the plot was moving ridiculously and unrealistically fast.

So, instead, we now have Harry deciding it's simply something of 'a compromise.' You can't take sworn enemies and throw them together in the space of three chapters, unless you've sped up the span of time. Here, Harry becomes comfortable with Draco's advances, and Draco is comfortable with his interest in Harry.

And, I promise, the chapters should be coming much faster this time around.


End file.
